


Ever Constant, Ever Changing

by PastelSapphy



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But not major characters, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Death, Eye Trauma, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Intense Suicidal Ideation, Intense Suicidal Thoughts, Lemme know if I missed anything, Mild Eye Gore, Mild Gore, Self Loathing, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Support Conversations, Torture, Trauma, Violence, but we all know the boy only has one eye so like, elise is there for like ten seconds, eye gore, idk - Freeform, or maybe more than mild?, self deprication, this is kinda heavy at times and I don't wanna upset/trigger anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 12:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17808032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelSapphy/pseuds/PastelSapphy
Summary: "He’s known to sneak away from camp to stargaze when he can’t sleep. [...] The stars do not care about his past, all the terrible things he has done. The stars hadn’t cursed him to the life he had lived.But most of all, the stars have never abandoned him."Conversations beneath the night sky are always the most revealing. A take on Niles' past.





	Ever Constant, Ever Changing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! First time posting here. I played Fates over the summer and I love my Nohr babies, especially Niles, and after reading a few fics this idea wouldn't leave me alone. It's essentially a look into Niles' past. I actually wrote it back in August and had a friend beta it but never got around to editing until recently!  
> I hope you enjoy, I worked really hard on this! Please comment/leave kudos if you like it and/or have any constructive comments!!!!  
> Also lemme know if I should add any tags. Since we're looking into Niles' past there's a lot of heavy and somewhat graphic content.

Niles is not an emotional person, someone who grew up the way he did could never afford to be. Emotions were a weakness. If you cared about another person you might do something stupid for them, and then you’re dead. If you have sympathy for other people you might hesitate while robbing or killing them. And then you’re dead, or worse. If you have a weakness, then someone will find out and use it against you. And then you’re dead.

          Despite this, even someone as far gone as Niles feels he is can’t help but give himself a little time to feel. Only once in a blue moon, but it’s enough. And it always happens when he’s looking at the night sky.

          He loves the stability of it. It is ever changing, and yet it can always be predicted. The moon will wane until it can’t be seen, but after a night or two one can see a sliver of silver appearing once again. Growing and growing until it’s full and casts its bright glow over the dark streets of Windmire.

The stars are beautiful as well. Like so many before him, Niles always looked for shapes and pictures made from the small glowing dots. He gave them his own names—the archer, the thief, the wolf, the dagger, the crown (Niles never claimed to be creative, unless he was in the bedroom). Certain shapes will disappear as the seasons change, but they will always come back at the same time of year. It’s the only thing that has stayed the same in his life, and he takes great comfort in it.

          He’s known to sneak away from camp to stargaze when he can’t sleep. Sometimes he thinks back to his past. All the other nights he had spent gazing up into the darkness above. Other times he wonders about his future. If he will be lucky enough to stay by his lord’s side until death (Niles’ own of course, he’d never let Lord Leo die before him). And some nights he will simply let his mind go blank for a time. Let his worries and thoughts and fears slip away for a few glorious moments. The stars do not care about his past, all the terrible things he has done. The stars hadn’t cursed him to the life he had lived.

          But most of all, the stars have never abandoned him.

          It’s on one of these nights that Lord Leo finds him, a few hundred yards outside of the army’s base camp. The battle that day had been long and hard. Good soldiers were lost. Niles had nearly been one of them, and he knows his nightmares will come for him if he sleeps. His keen senses, honed by years of brutal survival, had been fully focused on Lord Leo. No one would touch the prince so long as Niles lived. Niles had sent an arrow through the throat of a charging soldier and spun around to shoot again. He must have shifted to the side just a few inches, and an arrow sailed past his head. So close he felt it graze his cheek, leaving a neat line of blood in its wake. He was sure it would have gone through his head had he not moved at that moment.

          His attacker was quickly dispatched, and he continued fighting as if nothing happened. It was not his first brush with death, nor would it be his last. He had forced himself over the years not to be shaken anymore. He couldn’t afford to lose his composure on the battlefield because of a close call or two. But under the soft glow of the moon, staring up into the endless black sky, he allows himself a moment of vulnerability. The stars don’t care if he’s still human, if only the smallest bit.

          “Hello, Niles,” Lord Leo greets him.

          Niles’ demeanor changes in a heartbeat, all his weakness and vulnerability gone. He sits up from his spot on the ground and immediately rolls up onto one knee. “Lord Leo, what is your command?”

          The prince chuckles. “At ease, I was just making conversation.”

Niles finds it hard to relax, despite the command. He must be on guard, ready to strike should danger arise. But his lord seems unworried, and sits down daintily on the ground beside Niles, trying not to get dirt and dust on his pristine clothes. Niles forces himself to relax and sits back with his legs crossed.

“You should be at the base camp, milord,” Niles says. “It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”

“I can’t stay at that camp much longer right now. I swear to the gods one day my siblings are going to drive me mad.”

“What are they doing now?”

Leo sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was a tough battle, so Corrin is upset over the losses. Which means Elise is upset, because gods forbid there’s sadness during war or that her family is upset. Which means _Camilla_ is upset, because both her little sisters are upset—but mostly _Corrin_ is upset—and she’s also _angry,_ and no one wants to get too close to Camilla when she’s angry. _Especially_ if it has anything to do with upsetting Corrin.”

Niles nods, having been on the wrong end of Camilla’s rage a handful of times. He can still feel the blade of her ax at his neck. He had only gotten away from her alive due to his quick thinking, a few choice words from Lord Leo, and sheer dumb luck.

“And because everyone is in a fit right now it’s wearing on _Xander_ , and he’s almost as bad when he gets this way. If I stayed much longer _I_ was going to snap.”

“Understandable, milord. Do you want me to go?”

Niles starts to stand but Leo waves his hand. “No, no, sit back down. I could use the company. And as you said, it’s dangerous to be out alone.” He takes a slight joking tone with the last sentence. Despite his duty to protect the prince, Niles knows that Leo is more than capable of holding his own in battle--Niles has been on the wrong side of his rage before as well (And Xander's, but it would be easier to list the people who _haven't_ tried to kill him).

 “As you wish.” Niles sits back down, and there is a pleasant silence for a while as the pair stare up into the twinkling abyss.

“You looked like you were deep in thought,” Leo speaks up. “Thinking about anything in particular?"

Niles pauses for a moment. He had been thinking, but he’s sure Lord Leo won’t want to hear his dreary thoughts. It will only upset him; it would upset anyone. Besides, what would be the point? The thoughts he’s been having don’t matter anymore. Burdening his lord with them won’t change that. Despite the prince’s incredible skill and power when it comes to magic, even he can’t turn back time. Can’t reverse its flow and find little Niles, save him from a life of hell. Talking won’t fix anything.

And yet, Niles can’t help but feel a bit more relaxed than usual. Here is Leo—his _lord,_ his _prince—_ sitting so casually beside him as they gaze at the sky. He can’t help but let his guard slide down, if only the tiniest bit. If it were anyone else Niles would fight the urge, double down on his defenses and use every tactic he knew of to drive them away before his walls can slide down any further. But Lord Leo is different. Lord Leo is… kind, despite his fearsome reputation. He’d given Niles a second chance and showed him generosity he had never even dared to dream of. And beyond that, the guarded prince seems to truly care for him—an honor that can only be claimed by a handful of people.

Niles turns his gaze back up to the dark night sky. The stars, ever constant, continue shining where they hang on their inky backdrop. He can’t help but feel a little more open like this. The stars don’t judge him. And it seems… Lord Leo won’t either. Perhaps it would be okay to talk a little, if only to satisfy Lord Leo’s curiosity. “Not really. Just… reminiscing about the past, I suppose.”

Leo frowns. “Oh? I thought your past was rather unpleasant.”

Niles chuckles. “Oh yes, it certainly was. But it doesn’t make me sad to think about it. I mostly wish I could string together more memories…” Most of his childhood is a blur. He wants to remember. To know why he became the man he is. The cold-hearted sadistic killer, bandit, former scum of Nohr he was forced to become. But remembering is also one of the few things that truly frightens him.

“How do you mean?” Leo asks.

“I only have fleeting visions of my youth,” Niles says. His memories are a little clearer than he lets on, but still just out of reach. “I can picture an old brick…”

 

An old brick, the first weapon he had been forced to use.

He was only five years old, hardly more than a toddler. His mother had abandoned him a few months prior, and he never knew why. She had cared for him for a few years and suddenly she was gone. Rocked him to sleep one night in a half-hidden alleyway. When he awoke, he was alone. No trace of where his mother went. Simply vanished, as if he never had a mother at all. Which, as far as Niles is concerned, is true. A woman gave birth to him, yes, but he never had a mother. All these years later, he can’t even remember what she looked like. He prefers it that way.

A five-year-old could only do so much on his own. He spent those months rummaging through garbage bins, stealing half-eaten and spoiled food. He drank dirty water from puddles and stole buckets from villager’s wells. He begged for money in crowded markets. He slept on the streets, a pair of skinny arms the only thing between his head and the cold stone below.

He was sure to get caught eventually. While some may have some sympathy for an orphaned, lost child, many in Windmire’s underground had none whatsoever. For a child would eventually become an adult. Another adult was a threat, and even a child was competition for food. Survival knows no mercy.

He hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. All the food he could find was much more spoiled than he could stomach. Niles couldn’t afford to get sick. It would be a death sentence for sure—even as a child he knew that. He had seen it happen to other kids like him. They always wound up dead—victims of the illness or of other scum on the streets.

His attempts at panhandling hadn’t worked either; no one seemed willing to spare a coin or two. So, when he passed an unattended food stand it seemed too good to be true.

The vendor was selling fruit: fresh and juicy-looking and _gods_ he was so hungry—when had he last eaten? When had the food been this _good?_ He couldn’t remember. All he could think of in that moment was the oh-so tempting fruit: like a gift from the gods dropped in his lap.

He looked around. The streets were unusually empty, and the vendor seemed to be away. The only person who might have paid him any mind was a scraggly looking teenager slouched against the wall near the stand. And just Niles’ luck—the kid was asleep. Without a second thought, he grabbed an armful of food and took off. He had not seen the vendor just around the corner, returning from a bathroom break (or whatever you would call “pissing against a wall in an alley”). “Hey! You get back here you little thief!”

The vendor turned and smacked the sleeping teenager upside the head as Niles ran. “You lazy pile of shit! Sleepin’ on the job! Go get that kid and get me my fruit back or you ain’t getting paid today!”

Money, as in all places, was one of the biggest incentives to do something—even to a teenager who just wanted a gods-damned nap. Niles didn’t have much of a head start before the teenager was sprinting after him. The child’s stubby little legs carried him away as fast as they could, but he was no match for a grown near-adult. After only running a couple of blocks he was grabbed by the collar and hoisted into the air. All the fruit slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the ground. “Caught you, ya little thief,” the teenager said.

Niles felt panic course through him. He began flailing in the air, tears welling up in his eyes, trying to escape the man’s grasp, but to no avail. “You have any idea how much money you almost cost me you brat?” The man snapped at him, shaking Niles for emphasis. “I should call the guards on you for this!”

That sent Niles in complete and total panic mode. If he was turned over to Nohrian officers, he had no idea what would happen. He just knew it would be terrible, horrifying. Worse than his young mind could truly imagine. He kicked and flailed and screamed louder and managed to kick the man in the face. His grip faltered long enough for Niles to slip away and start running again, abandoning his stolen fruit on the ground behind him.

The man continued to chase him through the streets of Windmire. Niles ducked into an alley in an attempt to shake him, but his heart sank into the ground when he realized too late that there was no exit, and the man’s shadow fell across him. “Got you now you little punk.”

Niles spun around to face him, backing further into the alley as the man stepped closer. He jumped when his back hit the wall and the man chuckled. “Nowhere to run now, brat.”

He looked around, hoping desperately that there was some way out he missed. Something, something, _something._ But the only exit was back the way he came, past the furious man. And then he saw what would be his momentary salvation.

An old brick.

Without thinking, Niles leapt to the side and grabbed it, barely able to wrap his tiny fist around it. He threw it with as much strength as his little body could muster and ran. He heard the brick hit the man’s face, and an unpleasant crunch as something broke. The man dropped to the ground with his hands over his face as Niles ran past him. Despite the blow, the man still reached out to grab him, locking his fist around the child’s ankle.

The actual fight is a blur to Niles. But he knows he grabbed the brick again and swung, hitting the man as many times as he needed to before his grip loosened, and the terrified child could finally scramble away. He sprinted as fast as he could, not knowing or caring where he was going. He didn’t stop for breath until he was about to collapse, and even then, he didn’t slow until he was absolutely sure he hadn’t been followed again.

Eventually, he stumbled across a clump of bushes and decided it was a good as place as any to shelter for the night. He crawled under the sharp branches until he was out of sight and curled up in the dirt. It was then that he finally noticed that he was covered in blood. Flecks of dark red scattered across his hands and up his arms. He gently pressed his fingertips to his face. To his growing horror, they came away bloody.

Niles cried.

He curled up into himself and the floodgates opened. Tears of sadness, of fear, of anger, of feelings he couldn’t even understand yet. He had beaten a man half to death (to death? Had he _killed_ someone?) with a brick to save his own skin, and he’d still come away empty-handed. The hollow gnawing in his stomach seemed to mock him.

For the first time, but not the last, Niles wished he was dead.

He remembers other things; things he isn’t going to bother Lord Leo with, even with the gritty details trimmed out. He remembers the feel of the streets under his face, that is one he’ll never forget. He’d had his face ground into the cold, unforgiving stone and dirt on countless occasions. Fighting other criminals like himself, after a good punch or a leg sweep sent him crashing down. Other times it would be a narrow escape from Nohrian officers that gave him a mouthful of dirt and broken stone. On a handful of occasions, when he was older, it was with a hand pinning him down by the back of his head and his pants bunched up around his thighs, trying to enjoy himself a little while he earned a handful of coins (and of course with his luck most people didn't have anything softer to fuck on).

          He remembers the rough voices of the criminals who “raised” him, to use the term lightly. Seven years old, only slightly more experienced in the cruel ways of the world. He was once again hungry and stupid and desperate. Pickings had been slim lately, as that year’s winter had been particularly harsh. There was little food he could steal, and no one willing to part with some loose change.

He tried to pick-pocket someone as a last resort. But Niles had only done it a few times, and always when it was crowded and he could get away quickly. Inexperienced as he was, it would only take a few seconds for his unfortunate victim to realize what happened. But by then Niles was just another face in the crowd. A tiny child, too small to be picked out among so many other potential thieves.

This time, the streets only had a handful of people, but Niles had decided that didn’t matter. He was hungry, so hungry. Hungrier than he’d been on the fateful day with the fruit vendor (a hazy memory already, his young mind trying its best to erase it). Kids were stupid to begin with, and hunger made it worse. Stupid and desperate and _gods he was so hungry._ It seemed to be his only option if he didn’t want to spend another night ignoring the pain in his stomach.

He discreetly approached a small group of men, acting as if he simply needed to walk past them to get to where he was going. He bumped into one and quickly moved to slip a few coins out of the man’s pocket.

 He was caught instantly. Criminals know how to tell when they’re being robbed, especially when the culprit is an untrained child who was not nearly as sneaky as he thought he was.

He didn’t even have time to run before he was jerked upward by a hand on the back of his shirt, a feeling that was not unfamiliar to him. He flailed in the air, dropping the coins, focusing only on the fabric digging into his windpipe. “What do you think you’re trying to do you little rat?” The man growled in his ear.

          The hand holding him up suddenly vanished, and Niles dropped to the ground. Little feet hit the stone first and he attempted to sprint away, only to slam into another thug. Before he knew it, he was surrounded.

          “Well you little punk? Thought you could steal from us?” The one who had grabbed him growled again.

          A shove came from behind him as a second voice spoke. “You know how they deal with thieves up at the castle?”

          Another one—or maybe it had been the first one? He couldn’t keep track of them—grabbed him by the wrist and pinned it to the wall of a building. “They cut off their hand.”

“But maybe we’ll be nice and only take a couple of fingers.”

Niles had a better idea of how to fight than he did back when a random brick was his only weapon. He'd learned quickly what his two strongest weapons were: his elbows (hardest part of the body, good for jabbing) and his teeth (just generally unpleasant). So the first two things he did were elbow one thug in the gut and bite down as hard as he could on the hand pinning him to the wall. Everything erupted in chaos after that.

          The memory blacks out then, for the most part. Looking back, Niles isn’t sure if his mind is blocking it out or if he went into a blind rage and that’s why he can’t remember.

What he does know was it was the first time he killed someone.

          The first time he was certain, anyway. It hadn’t been on purpose of course—he was barely a child. He hadn't even been able to make himself hunt yet. But when push came to shove, he fought for his life with everything he had.

          An image flashes through his mind: A blade clattering to the ground. A blade in his hand. A blade moving, swinging, stabbing. A blade, parting flesh. A blade slipping from his hand. A man, crumbling to the ground at his feet. 

The next thing he can remember is a man. Tall, built like a brick wall. All solid muscles and crisscrossing scars across his pale skin. He had no hair on his head; yet he did have an impressively bushy beard. His eyes were chips of ice and seemed to stare into Niles’s soul, freezing it solid.

          “You the little brat who killed one of my men?”

          He had been dragged to their hideout, kicking and screaming, not drawing enough attention during the short trip for anyone to care—not that they probably would have anyway. The thugs dropped him unceremoniously at the man’s feet. Niles scrambled back up, drawing himself up to full height and puffing out his chest. But even while covered in blood, a seven-year-old—especially one who's barely more than a sack of skin stretched tightly over small bones—is only so intimidating. If at all. Although, maybe Niles put on a tough front more for himself. He would not let himself be afraid, even though it seemed to paralyze him.

      He had heard the other men talking to the bearded one, about how he killed someone. Niles _killed someone._ He wasn’t sure why they hadn’t killed him back there in revenge, why they had dragged him here instead. Perhaps this man—the leader?—would want to deal with Niles himself (He never did find out. Perhaps they just needed a new tool).

          “Well?” The man growled when Niles didn’t answer his question. “You kill him?”

          He forced himself to nod, refusing to back down under the man's harsh glare.

          A harsh _slap_ echoed in the room, and one of the men who had brought Niles there stumbled back as the man backhanded him. The bearded man glared up at the others. “One of you was killed by a _toddler?!_ Are you really this _pathetic_?!”

          Everything had faded into a blur of shouts and movement after that. The memory blacks out again. Or maybe he had blacked out then, probably from the fear he definitely wasn't feeling. One or the other. It doesn’t matter.

     The man had the group feed him and allowed Niles to get his strength back. He then tested Niles’ skills himself, dueling him and sending him out to pick-pocket after giving him some quick instructions, seeing how quickly he could learn. “This kid might be good for something,” the man declared after a while. “We’ll keep him around.”

          He spent the next several years with them, learning the tools of the trade. He learned to steal from unsuspecting passersby. He learned to pick even the trickiest of locks to get to the treasures hidden inside. He learned how to break into heavily protected buildings without alerting guards, how to disarm most traps. He learned how to torture people for information. He learned how to kill people. He learned how to stop feeling bad for all the things he had done.

          He had been with the group for three years when he first became a liability.

          The bearded man, who still lead the group of criminals at this point, had him pinned to the wall of the hideout with a forearm across his throat. Niles gasped for breath while he was shouted at. Veins bulged in the man’s forehead and Niles was sure one would explode, raining blood on him the way the spit flying from the man’s mouth did. Drenching the child’s face as he struggled to break the man’s hold. He doesn’t remember most of what the man said. Only that Niles had failed them all during a heist, horribly. He was supposed to be a lookout. Let the group know if any officers were alerted or if anything else suspicious happened. To warn them so they could escape. But soldiers had gotten past him, despite his best efforts, and several members of the gang had been arrested and hauled off to the dungeons below castle Krakenburg. And Niles was to blame.

          “Do you have _eyes_ you little brat?” The man had shouted. “Are you _blind?!”_

          Niles had said something at that point, forcing just enough breath out to make himself understood, too young and stubborn to know when to shut up. Years later, he has no memory of _what_ , exactly, he had said, but it made the man stop screaming at him for a moment. And that terrified him even more. He wished the man would start screaming again. All these years later, he still wishes the man had started screaming again.

          The man’s voice dropped when he next spoke. Low, threatening, full of all the fear-derived authority he commanded, and Niles briefly thought the man looked like a dragon. He half expected to see smoke coming out his nose. “You know what kid?” The man had growled. “ _Use it or lose it.”_

Niles remembers the following moments more than he would ever want to. The clearest part of his childhood, to his eternal displeasure. The pain jolting through the right side of his face. The feeling of two more members of the gang holding him still while he flailed and kicked and screamed more than he ever had in his life. The sound of his voice as he begged _nonono please I’ll do better I’m sorry please don’t please no—_ The feeling of the man literally shoving his hand into Niles’s face. Of all the ways to blind someone in one eye, ripping the damn thing out and crushing it with your bare hand is probably the most brutal way to do it.

          All the hands had disappeared from him at once. Niles dropped to the ground, too weak and trembling too much to push himself back up. He sobbed uncontrollably and pressed his hands to the right side of his face. He felt no pressure under his closed eyelid, just warm blood running down his face, sliding between his fingers to drip on the ground below. His head spun with pain that threatened to knock him out from the sheer force of it, and the horrifying reality of what had just happened.

          “I really should take the other one too,” the man had said then, almost casually, wiping his gory hand on his pants. “Seems like neither of them worked before, and you deserve worse than this for your failure. But I’m feeling merciful tonight, so I’ll let you keep it.”

          If he had the strength at that moment, Niles would have wondered just how merciful that really was.

          He stayed with the gang after that. He had nowhere else to go. Especially after that, adapting to life with only one eye. The pain for the first while was debilitating. Niles was terrified to try and open his remaining eye. Any movement in his face made the pain he felt so much worse. Had he not known better he would have sworn someone lit the whole damn thing on fire.

          He was given a little time to recover before he was put back to work with everyone else. He did his best to hide his pain, he couldn’t risk being cast out for being weak. It lessened over time until finally he didn’t feel anything there. He would sometimes gently press his fingertips to his closed eyelid, feeling the emptiness behind it. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe there really wasn’t an eye there anymore, just an empty hole. He eventually fashioned himself an eyepatch out of a wad of cloth and some twine he stole and attempted to stop dwelling on it. Yet he could still feel the give of the cloth and his skin when he touched it, still expecting to feel a small curve preventing his fingers from pushing further in. But there was always nothing.

          He adapted to living with one eye; children adapt quickly. The lack of depth perception was off-putting, and it was difficult to aim his weapons, but Niles learned. He trained until he was one of the best archers in Windmire’s underground, despite only having one eye to aim with. He had to learn to shoot with his left hand if he wanted to aim, as the man had taken his right eye. He pulled his own weight within the gang, took care of himself. After a while it was as if he’d never had a right eye to begin with. As if he had never let everyone down on that mission, was never punished for his failure.

          The gang pulled heist after heist. Some nights they stole food, other nights it was valuables. Most of the time they went over without a hitch. They snuck in, got what they needed, and snuck out. Fights happened often enough, but their own casualties were often just some flesh wounds. The corpses on the floors of mansions and in the streets would surely like a say in who got it worse.

Occasionally they wouldn’t find whatever it was they needed—like one house they looked for some strange “killer doll” in, only to find nothing. But those small failures were bound to happen from time to time. Most of the time when that happened, members of the gang would go off on their own for the rest of the night. Some pick-pocketed, others staged robberies of their own. Some just went off to vent their anger. If Niles was needed somewhere he would follow. If not, he’d find an open space where he could just be. He would lie back and look at the stars.

 

          _“A field mouse…”_

 

He encountered many field mice over the years. They were everywhere in Nohr—outnumbered only by the rats (human and animal varieties). Like the stars and the moon, they were almost friends to him. He’d lie down in the grass just outside Windmire and gaze at the moon and the stars, watching them travel across the sky. He’d lie so still the wildlife would seem to forget him. Moths would fly close and land on his knee or his chest, resting their fuzzy wings for a few moments before continuing their flight. Bats would fly close, snatching up mosquitos before they could bite him. And mice would skitter by, making small noises in the grass around him. When he was younger, Niles would sometimes bring crumbs of food to see if they would come closer to him. It only worked so much, since mice were such skittish creatures. He had to commend them for it. Keeping your distance and running way was a survival skill that worked for them.

          Niles wished he could run away too.

 

          _“Torrential rain…”_

 

          He hated rainy days. _Loathed_ them. Gods, even loathe isn’t a strong enough word for the unadulterated animosity he feels toward storm clouds and rain. If he could murder a cloud he’d do it without hesitation, and he’d take far more pleasure in it than when he murdered people (which was already more than someone should get out of murder). Clouds blocked his view of the moon and the stars. He couldn’t lose himself in them for a while. The endless abyss of the night sky was blocked off by a thick grey wall, much too close to Earth for his liking. It made him feel claustrophobic, trapped. Like he was being suffocated.

          Rain also meant physical problems. Drenched clothing would cling and stick to him, rubbing his skin raw. If the rain lasted too long—no sun to dry everything out and nothing dry enough to start a fire with—skin would start to rot. Chills would set in too, and eventually sickness. Niles would always swear there were more bodies around after it rained for a few days.

He somehow managed to avoid the worst of it. He knew the signs of rain and would spend the day looking for the most sheltered hideout he could, sometimes bribing or begging his way into a house until the rain passed. He avoided deadly illness through luck, despite winding up with chills on more than one occasion. He would steal new clothes as soon after the rain as he could, to avoid prolonging it. He always looked for shoes first—feet always seemed to rot fastest. Despite his skill for theft and burglary, there were times where Niles had to decide that letting his feet get cut up by rocks for a few days was better than rotting, damp, painful flesh.

          Niles almost never slept on nights it rained. Perhaps because the only calming force in his life was blocked off from him. No endless night sky, no constant moon and stars to comfort him. Just grey clouds and heavy drops of rain. Falling endlessly down, chilling him to his core, leaving him shivering and tense. On those nights, he would swear the Gods had sent the rain to punish him. _You don’t get the privilege of resting,_ he imagined them saying. _You lost that right a long time ago._

And maybe he had.

 

          _“Some kind of… horribly disfigured man…”_

 

          At seventeen, all Niles could remember was living on the streets with the gang of criminals he called his family. Who taught him to kill and steal and beg and all sorts of other unpleasant things. Who tore his right eye out without any remorse and continued on as if nothing had happened, not even when they noticed Niles flinching every time a hand came too close to his face. When it still made him flinch even when a knife to his neck didn’t.

          The first few years were hard. Niles was still young, still naive. Desperately clinging to his sense of humanity. Holding the pain from what he had to do close to his heart. Hoping that if could still feel, if he could stay _human,_ if he felt bad for the horrible things he had to do, then maybe one day it wouldn’t have to be like this anymore. Maybe one day he could live a better life and be forgiven for everything.

          The pain was overwhelming. Niles was only eleven when he would first spend nights with a knife to his neck, wondering what it would feel like for the cold iron to bite into his skin. What it would feel like as his blood spilled out on the ground as it drowned him. What so many others had felt when he’d done that to them. He’d spend nights atop high buildings, hoping a breeze would throw him off his balance and send him hurtling to the ground, helpless to stop the fall. He’d wonder how it would feel for all his bones to shatter on the stone and dirt he slept on for so long. How long it would take for him to die if the impact didn’t kill him.

          On particularly bad nights he would fantasize about letting himself get caught. Doing something so stupid and dangerous that he was bound to be arrested by castle guards and hauled off to the dungeons below Krakenburg; the only fate that could follow would be a hanging. He imagined assaulting an officer in broad daylight (to use the term lightly—Nohr didn’t see much daylight). Having one last good, hard fight before he was beaten. Before they bound his hands and dragged him away. How he’d feel knowing there was no going back as he waited in the dungeons, as they marched him up to the gallows. A crowd watching as they fastened a noose around his neck. The long moment before he’d find out if his neck would be broken or if he’d be left to dangle there until the life was choked out of him. Cursing the aristocracy with his final breath.

          Niles wished he could do it. He just wanted to stop hurting. But instead, he made himself let go.

          He pushed all his pain, all his worries about staying human or one day redeeming himself, as far away as he could. He told himself it was stupid, so beyond _stupid,_ to try and hold on to his humanity out here. Because he would only end up dead. And he shouldn’t want that. He didn’t want… shouldn’t want… he _didn’t_ want that.

          He tried to make himself enjoy it, the things he had to do. He thought maybe he’d feel some semblance of happiness again. That he’d stop feeling so horrible and wretched, as if his soul was tearing itself apart. He made himself look into people’s eyes as he killed them, as he robbed them, as he tortured them. He never backed down from an order from the gang leader, no matter how gruesome. He would saw off people’s fingers or toes while they begged for mercy. He would flay them, cut them open slowly and listen to their screams. He had cut out the tongues of traitors. He strangled people with his bare hands. He would help hold them down while the rest of the gang tortured them. He even gouged out a man’s eye once, and tried to block out the memory of losing his own (his nightmares will never let him forget).

          He told himself over and over to enjoy it. To find some kind of pleasure or happiness in it. To stop feeling so horrible and full of pain and anger and shame. Told himself every day, every time he did something unforgivable. Until eventually he didn’t have to remind himself anymore. Until he was truly unphased by screams of agony, pleas for mercy, sobs of terror and pain. Unphased by the feel of blood splattering on his clothes, his face. Of it covering his hands, dripping onto the ground at his feet. Until he had no qualms about wiping it all off on a dead man’s clothing. Until, when he heard the man at his feet—a criminal like himself, covered in deep gouges and missing patches of skin, covered in other wounds and marks of torture all courtesy of Niles—beg for his life, beg for the pain to stop, beg for what mercy Niles may have had, that he felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

          Niles felt happy.

          The part inside him that still felt sick was buried. He didn’t have to worry about it anymore. The pain of others no longer hurt him back. He was as wretched as they come. The scourge of Windmire’s streets. The boogeyman children were warned about if they strayed from their mothers. He would hear the whispers as he passed people on the streets, even from others like him: _monster, monster, monster._ He raised no objections.

          Niles knew he was a monster.

 

          “A pile of money, the taste of blood…” Niles trails off, losing himself in the fragmented memories he has. He almost forgets Lord Leo is there until the blonde speaks up.

          “Gods…” It takes a lot to shake the prince, and Niles is legitimately surprised to see him look upset.

          “These fragments rattle around in my head from time to time.”

          “I see…”

          “It’s not exactly… painful,” Niles says, trying to ease Lord Leo’s discomfort. But he can’t help but add on: “But… it isn’t pleasant either.”

          There is a long silence, and Niles begins to worry he upset Lord Leo. Gods that is the last thing he would want to do. He berates himself for being so selfish, so egotistical to think that anyone, least of all _Lord Leo,_ would _actually_ want to hear him prattling on about the life he left behind, all the horrible and burdensome memories—

          “You never talk much about your past,” Leo says. “I see why.”

          “Lord Leo, I must apologize. I did not mean to burden you with this…”

          Leo dismisses his apology with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense, Niles. I don’t mind.”

          _Is he just saying that?_ Niles wonders. _Is he somehow afraid of offending someone like me if he says he really doesn’t care?_ But upon further reflection, he knows Lord Leo is not the type to lie to someone for the sake of their comfort. His lord is a rather blunt person and isn’t fond of sugar-coating the truth—much to the chagrin of his siblings. So, perhaps, he really doesn’t mind? It seems too good to be true, for someone to be okay with listening to Niles’ sordid past. He lets out a sigh. “Well, I do appreciate you saying that. It puts me at ease.”

          “I do have a question for you though. You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel like it,” Leo rushes the last part a bit, and Niles is flattered that his lord would consider his comfort. “Do… do you have any fond memories whatsoever?”

          Niles smiles. “I have one. Even now, I can remember it in vivid detail.”

          “Please, tell me about it,” Leo says. His expression is softer than usual, more open. His dark eyes, so like the beautiful sky above them, show genuine curiosity. And not in his usual knowing-for-the-sake-of-knowing or in a scrutinizing or analytical way. Simply the curiosity of one friend talking to another. It makes his one pleasant memory even better.

          “It was the moment I met you, Lord Leo.”

          Leo raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “Is that so?”

          “Yes, you must remember. I had broken into the palace with my supposed friends. They betrayed me at the first sign of danger.”

 

          The night started out like any other. The gang was planning a heist. They had actually been planning it for weeks. Far more preparation than had ever gone into previous heists. Which was necessary—breaking into mansions and robbing officers and assassinating people would be child’s play next to this.

          _“Castle Krakenburg?! Are you out of your mind?!”_ Objections had been raised when it was first proposed. It sounded more like a suicide mission than anything.  

          “We’ll never make it out of there alive! If we even manage to get in.”

          The leader shut all the objections up quickly—a large axe and biceps the size of watermelons will do that—and explained the plan for the heist. They would take time to prepare, to map everything out, to be ready in case something went wrong. To a group of half-giddy, half-terrified criminals with almost nothing to lose, it sounded perfect.

          The plan, in actuality, was shit. But any plan to break into the center of Nohrian power would have been shit.

          They were caught almost immediately upon entering. The castle guards were more skilled than any they had encountered before. The guards also had home field advantage, knowing all the ins and outs and sounds of the castle. It almost seemed like they had a sixth sense for trouble. An alarm was raised before they could even find what they were looking for, and all of them fled in a panic, back the way they had broken in.

          “Niles!” One of the gang members said to him as they fled. “Stay at the back of the group. If they start gaining you start firing.”

          Niles had done as he was told, fearing what the consequences would be if he had done otherwise (he ignored the faint tingling on the right side of his face). He wanted to stay on the good side of torturing and murdering. The rest of his gang tore past him as the royal guards gained. And Niles fired away, buying the group more time to escape. They were only a few hundred feet from the exit when the leader yelled something Niles couldn’t understand over his shoulder. Another man, closer to Niles, stopped running.

          “We’re not going to make it,” the man gasped.

          “We won’t if you stop running,” Niles growled and went to sprint past him.

 

          _“That’s right. They left you as a decoy, didn’t they?”_

 

          He processed the next few events out of order. The burning pain in his abdomen was first. It was only after that began to sink in that he felt what had been the man grabbing him by the wrist and spinning him around. He was thrown to the ground in the wide castle corridor and left for dead as his former “family” escaped from the castle.

 

          _“Yes.”_

 

The wound was nothing compared to wounds he had suffered before—for a moment he was glad he hadn’t been stabbed, only slashed. He’d been nearly gutted on one occasion, and how he survived was always a mystery. Nothing had ever surpassed the agony of having his eye torn out. The slash he had just been given? That was nothing. It was the betrayal that sent him to the ground, head spinning. You don’t form attachments on the streets, Niles knew that better than anyone, but the gang was the only community he had ever known. His only semblance of belonging somewhere. He had seen himself as an invaluable asset, let his ego rise too high. He was one of the best archers on the streets, feared by those who might cross him. _Monster, monster, monster._

Betrayal was expected on the streets. You couldn’t truly trust anyone to have your back. For the right price, you’d find a knife in it. On some level Niles should have always known that he’d be cast out one day. Anyone he might consider family, or even just an ally, always tossed him aside when they no longer had use for him. It was just a fact of his wretched, miserable life. And his mistake was forgetting that.

It was there, in the castle corridor, covered in his own blood and wishing his throat had been cut instead as he staggered to his feet, that Niles first encountered Prince Leo of Nohr.

Between the pair, neither made a good first impression on the other.

          Niles had considered trying to make a break for it—he was fast and clever; surely he could still get away—but he let that thought die. What would he do then? Where would he go? He couldn’t go back to his gang, and no one survived alone. A twisted irony of the streets—lone wolves die, but so do those who get attached. You can’t win.

          His train of thought changed as he heard footsteps approaching. He turned and saw a boy, not much younger than himself, standing further down the corridor. He wasn’t well versed in Nohr’s nobility, but anyone could identify the youngest prince, Leo.

He was still dressed in his nightclothes, rumpled from sleep. He had tossed on a few pieces of armor haphazardly, and they looked like they were going to fall off at any moment. His hair was unbound and a mess, sticking out like hay in all directions. Had he been more observant, Niles also would have noticed that Leo’s shoes were on the wrong feet. That ensemble, coupled with a fourteen-year-old Leo’s babyface, did not match the image of the proud, dignified youngest prince of Nohr, who periodically freaked out over being told his collar was inside out (again).

His voice was the only thing that wasn’t in some state of dishevelment. It rang clear through the hall. Firm, unquestionable. He had no need to yell, or even raise his voice beyond normal speaking volume. Despite his young age, he already carried a calm, controlled authority. He was not one to be trifled with.

Instantly, Niles knew without a flicker of doubt that he could not win this fight.

He threw his bow to the ground, and let the belts holding his quiver and knives follow it. He put his hands up in a show of surrender as the boy approached him.

“So, you’re the thief who managed to get in here,” Leo said.

Leo carried a book in one hand, opened to somewhere in the middle, and he stretched out the other hand towards Niles. The outlaw saw it glow with magical energy, swirling power literally in the palm of the boy’s hand. Vines began to rise up out of the ground around Niles as the blonde approached him, twisting up his legs, anchoring him to the floor, before working their way up his torso and down his arms, where the thorny green ropes bound his wrists behind his back. After just a few seconds, he was helpless to escape.

“You’re either the bravest burglar in Nohr, or the dumbest.” Leo’s words were spoken without malice or anger; Leo was always a matter-of-fact kind of person. He almost sounded bored, but anyone who knew him could hear the slightest hint of curiosity.

Niles let out a sharp bark of a laugh. He wasn’t sure what else to do, and gods knew how he was supposed to answer this. Perhaps the answer was simply “the most suicidal.”

Leo simply continued looking at him. His dark eyes scanning Niles, almost as if he were looking for something. When their gazes locked, two nearly black eyes meeting a singular blue one, Niles was reminded of the night sky he loved so much.

“It seems the answer is ‘the dumbest.’ A pity. Do you have anything to say for yourself, thief? If you have some defense, or just want to beg for your life, now would be the chance.”

 

          _“And I… was about to execute you.”_

_“Heh. Yes, now the memories are flooding back.”_

 

Niles tried to speak but found himself unable to form words. His head was still swimming, and he felt as if the vines around his neck were getting tighter. What words he managed to eke out were barely above a whisper, not loud enough to carry over to the young prince. And through all of it Leo’s gaze never wavered. Eyes of the night sky, burning into his soul.

 

_“It was so curious, how you didn’t beg for your life at all…”_

 

“Please,” Niles finally gasped out, loud enough for Leo to hear. “Please kill me.”

 

_“Rather, you begged for your death. That piqued my interest…”_

 

His words threw Leo off for a moment. His cool, steady demeanor cracked for the briefest of seconds, betraying a look of confusion and curiosity. “Interesting. This is usually when criminals beg me to spare them.”

Niles laughed again, but it came out closer to a strangled gasp. “I have nothing to gain from that, princeling,” Niles said. “Show some mercy on this wretch of a man and kill me. And do it quickly. Please.”

Niles hung his head and closed his eye, waiting for his request to be granted. For the vines to crush him. For the ones around his neck to starve him of air and leave him gasping at nothing until he sank into darkness. For the rest to shatter his bones like a dropped piece of glass. For castle guards to show up and drag him off to the dungeons, so his execution could be public. For an example to be made out of him. For the twisted fantasy he had for years to finally be fulfilled. _This is what happens to those who cross the royal family._ That would be the legacy of the monster of Windmire.

But nothing happened.

The only sound in the corridor was Niles’ labored breathing, which he so desperately wished would stop soon. It was joined by the soft click of Leo’s shoes across the stone floor. When Niles looked up the young prince was standing in front of him. “You are an interesting man,” was all he said.

Niles felt rage begin to course through him again. He had always hated the upper class, the royalty and their inner circles. Living lives of unimaginable wealth and luxury while he was thrown into the gutters as a child, forced to beg and steal and kill and sell himself if he wanted to stay alive. And here was one of those rich bastards standing before him. Not even just a lower noble or an officer or an aristocrat but _one of the gods damned princes_. And he had Niles completely at his mercy, and Niles knew his sentence must be death. The royal family doesn’t take insult lightly. He had seen it for himself more than once when his former allies were unlucky enough to get caught. He was sure this prince, young as he was, must have killed before. He was too calm, too detached. His movements were too precise. He never showed a hint of hesitation as he wrapped a noose of vines around Niles’ throat. A flick of the boy’s hand was all that was needed to end the criminal’s pathetic life. He’d even broken down and _begged_ this high-class scum for it.

And yet, he was still alive. With this bastard prince less than a foot away from him.

“What are you waiting for, princeling?” he growled. “You’ve done this before. I know you have. So just _end_ me already.” When the prince still did not move, he continued, his voice growing louder and angrier and the moments ticked by. “ _Kill me! Do it already you bastard!_ I’m sure you’d love to get rid of another piece of _filth_ and _shit_ polluting Windmire’s streets. So, do it already! Choke the last breaths out of this wretched body and be done with it, end my miserable life. _Just do it already!”_

His shouts must have alerted the castle guards to their location, and they showed up shortly, moving in to surround Niles with their weapons drawn. “Milord!” One of them reached out to push Leo back, but a glare from the prince froze him in his tracks.

“I have this under control. Do not touch me. And do not touch him.”

The first order would have been followed without hesitation, but the second earned looks of confusion. “Milord?”

“Lord Leo, he broke into the castle. He’s likely an assassin sent to kill you or the others. It’s our duty to protect you,” another spoke up.

“This isn’t an assassin. Or at least, he isn’t one tonight.” Leo turned his gaze back to Niles. “Just a thief.”

“My lord, we can take is from here,” another guard interjected. “No need to sully yourself with killing the likes of him.”

Leo did not respond immediately, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. He just kept that dark gaze on Niles. Unblinking, analyzing, just a bit more curious than he was earlier.

“If I’m allowed to speak,” Niles said, his voice dripping with sarcasm and distain, “I don’t care how you do it. Let one of these fools skewer me. Just let me finally die.”

A beat. Then Leo finally pulled his gaze from Niles and looked to the crowd. “That settles this then.”

Niles again braced for the end. The suffocation. The feel of a sword through his throat. Anything, _anything_ , but instead he felt the vines around him disappear. They retreated into the ground and vanished without a trace, leaving Niles to drop to the floor in an exhausted heap. “Bring him down to the healers and have him looked at. I want to see him alive in the morning.”

The shock in the room was palpable. Niles wondered if the prince was like him—if he enjoyed seeing others suffer. If he wanted to keep Niles alive for some twisted enjoyment. It was the only explanation.

“M-milord?” one of the guards finally broke the confused silence.

          “I don’t like repeating myself.”

          “What do you plan to do with him, Lord Leo?” another asked.

          Leo leveled his gaze on Niles again, who lay on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, breathing fast and heavy, and desperate to finally die. “I believe I have made my decision already, but I would like to see how this plays out before making it official.” He looked back up at his guards. “I highly recommend you get him to a healer as quickly as possible.”

          Without another word, the castle guards finally put away their weapons. One ran ahead to alert the healers, while two more hefted Niles’s limp form up over their shoulders. They all filed out of the corridor, and within moments the only sign that anything had happened was the pool of blood in the middle of the floor. Niles glanced up once as he was carried away. His eye met Leo’s, and he could see steely determination behind them.

          Niles let his head drop and gave himself over to the darkness of exhaustion and pain.

When Niles awoke the following morning, the first thing he felt was that one of his wrists was chained to something. He wondered for a moment what his gang had gotten into last night that someone had managed to capture him, but then the memories came flooding back. The heist. The betrayal. The prince. The absolutely intolerable fact that he was _still alive._ He couldn’t help but let out a groan.

“Oh! You’re awake!” A voice chirped, already far too cheerful and perky for him. “How are you feeling?”

Niles opened his eye, blinking a few times as the room came into focus.

He had never seen this place before, but he figured it must be a room in the castle. Smooth stone walls with large windows along two walls. Red curtains were drawn back from each of them, letting what little light appeared during the day to trickle in. Lanterns and candles around the room supplemented it and allowed Niles to see the rest of the space.

It was mostly full of beds. Simple ones, but far better than any bed Niles could remember sleeping on. Large cabinets lined the walls in just about every spot that didn’t have a window. Through their glass doors, Niles could see the cabinets were piled with herbs, jars, and some tools he had never seen before. There was one door, located at the far end. It was closed, and likely locked.

He finally shifted his gaze to the girl at his bedside. She was young, at least several years younger than himself. Her face was round and still glowed with a child-like innocence that Niles envied. Her blonde hair was done up in two large pigtails and her violet eyes watched him intently. She gripped a staff tightly in one hand.

“Can you speak?” She asked him.

“No,” Niles had said. “I’ve been suddenly struck mute.”

The girl pouted. “Meanie.” Then as if nothing had happened: “Are you in any pain? Can you move at all?”

“Kid, why are you badgering me? Why am I even here?” Niles growled. _I should be dead right now._

The girl continued pouting. “I’m just trying to be a good healer. And my big brother had us bring you here. He wanted us to patch you up.”

“Your big brother?”

“Well, not my big-big brother. He’s not really happy about this, but he’s just worried. My little-big brother sent you here,” the girl responded nonchalantly.

Niles was about to ask how the hell he was supposed to know who that is when he finally recognized the girl. Even if he wasn’t well-versed in nobility, at the very least he should have noticed the resemblance to the boy he saw last night.

He was being pestered by Elise, the youngest of Nohr’s princesses.

Before Niles could confirm this, Elise suddenly jumped up. “Oh! That reminds me. My brother wanted me to get him once you woke up. I’ll be right back!” She sprinted out of the room without another word.

It was completely silent once she was gone, and Niles became painfully and _annoyingly_ aware of his own breathing. He flexed his bound wrist and checked the cuffs. Heavy, thick, probably iron. Unlocked by a key, and Niles knew he could pick it in a heartbeat if he wished to. He considered it. Freeing himself and waiting by the door for the princess to come back with her brother. Wrapping the chain of his cuffs around one of their necks and watching those pampered brats suffer. But Niles couldn’t find the strength to get up and do it. He felt as if every last ounce of energy had been drained from his body. Betrayal and despair will do that to a person.

Only a short time passed before the door to the room opened. Niles could just make out the voice of the young prince and another person. A guard must be stationed outside. Not a surprise.

“No, stay out here. I don’t need an escort.”

“Milord, are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone with—”

“I will be fine. I can handle this myself.”

 _I can handle this myself._ Niles only ever heard those words when someone was about to be killed. He wondered why it had taken so long, why the prince insisted on having him healed first.

He waited until Leo had stepped inside, alone, and shut the door behind him before he spoke. “And Nohr’s oh-so noble prince has decided to grace the likes of me with his presence.” A pause, then: “You know, normally when I'm handcuffed to a bed I'm having a bit more fun than this.”

Leo chuckled and began to make his way across the room, picking up a chair and carrying it to Niles’ bedside. The prince sat down carefully and crossed one leg over the other, very prim and proper. He looked much more like a prince now, as opposed to last night (Niles, however, looked just as much an outlaw). Properly dressed and wearing his full armor (put on securely this time). His hair was neatly combed, and a black band held parts of it back. Niles noticed he still carried the book he had last night.

“I don’t much enjoy pleasantries,” the prince finally spoke. “You don’t seem like the kind of man who does either. So, let’s make this quick. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re in here.”

Niles snorted. “I’m mostly wondering why you haven’t killed me yet. Don’t have the guts to do it?”

Leo’s expression did not change. “I have never seen a man so desperate to meet his own end.”

“I know it’s coming soon. I’d just like the cut to the chase.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Niles looked up. “What?”

“Your end isn’t coming soon,” Leo said simply.

Niles felt rage course through him again. Of course, this little brat didn’t get it, he would never understand. He would never understand everything Niles had suffered through, what it took to stay alive. How Niles was a dead man if he went back. No criminal would want to side with him, not with his reputation. And he knew he already had some hits out on him—other gangs looking to take out one of their most feared monsters. More would pop up, and he would be arrow fodder without his gang’s protection, despite his abilities. This little _prince_ would never know a day of suffering in his life (an assumption Niles would later find out was wrong, but that's not here).

He shot up and aimed a punch at Leo’s face, just dying to see surprise on it. See _pain_ on it. Niles adored seeing that first glimpse of pain on people’s faces, of people who have never known hardship.

The prince didn’t flinch, and Niles’ fist never made contact. Instead, his arm was sharply jerked backwards and pinned to the bed frame like his other one. He recognized the feeling of the vines from last night, and noticed the book glowing the way it had before. “Have I struck a nerve? That was not my intention. I was simply stating a fact,” Leo said. His expression remained infuriatingly neutral.

“I am a dead man walking, little prince,” Niles growled. “I’ve been marked for death for years. It was just a matter of who got me first—you, or the rest of Windmire’s scum.”

“You see no future for yourself.”

It wasn’t a question, but Niles answered anyway. “I have never had a future.”

 

_“And had the opposite effect of saving your life.”_

 

“What if I could give you one?”

Niles paused, not sure he had heard him correctly, or if the prince was mocking him. “What?”

Leo leaned in, his night-sky eyes unwaveringly fixed on Niles. “What if I could give you a second chance.”

Niles couldn’t help but laugh. “Second chances don’t exist for people like me.”

The prince’s expression finally changed. Niles could see determination behind his eyes, and one corner of his mouth turned up into a slight grin. “You forget who you are speaking to. If I offer someone a second chance, then a second chance exists.”

Niles’ head began to spin. This couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be. The prince must be mocking him, getting some twisted enjoyment out of taunting Niles before crushing his hopes into the ground beneath his feet and sentencing him to death.

The prince was still looking at him intently. When Niles met his gaze, he seemed to know that the prince wasn’t trying to trick him. His expression radiated determination, and his eyes seemed more honest than they should.

In that moment, looking into Leo’s eyes, Niles felt like a child again. Dreaming of the day he escaped the life of an outlaw. The day he no longer had to sleep on the streets and steal and beg and kill to make it to another day of stealing and begging and killing. That dream had died years ago, and he always thought he would only escape that life in death.

And yet here it was, an offer of the future.

Niles sat up as much as he could and held the prince’s gaze. “What is your offer?”

The prince’s grin grew. “Every member of the royal family is to have two personal retainers. I have yet to choose either of mine. Until now.”

It took Niles a long moment to process what the prince had just said. “Are… are you…”

“It’s not official just yet, I would like to test your abilities first. But to be honest, I have no doubts about your success.”

“I… I…” Niles couldn’t seem to form words. Emotions were coursing through him, so many he couldn’t identify them. Except for hope. Hope began to drown everything else out and for a moment he let himself feel it.

Niles dared to hope.

“All of your crimes will be pardoned in full, should you accept the offer,” Leo spoke again. “You will have lodgings here at the castle, as well as access to the training grounds, stables, library, almost any place you wish.

 _All of your crimes will be pardoned in full._ A pardon. _My crimes are beyond counting,_ he wanted to say. _I earned myself a trip to the gallows ten years ago, maybe before that. People like me don’t get second chances, we don’t_ deserve _second chances._

His doubts wouldn't let him go. He hesitated, too unsure of what to do. Niles hadn't hesitated over anything in years. He couldn't afford to. But the answers had always been simple: follow orders or suffer the consequences. Kill or be killed.

Here, there were no orders to take. No threat of torture should he answer incorrectly. Nothing left for him to lose.

“I'd like to ask a question first,” Niles said.

“Ask as many as you like,” the prince responded.

Niles swallowed, anxiety beginning to eat at him. He tried to shut up those thoughts—nothing should scare him—but yet here they were. The fear of his hopes being crushed. A man with nothing left to lose taking a leap of faith, almost certain he was going to fall. This was a question he'd wondered for a while, but never bothered with an answer, because to him the answer was and always would be _yes._

He hoped (he dared he _dared to hope)_ this prince would think otherwise.

“Do you think a person can be irreparably damaged?”

The prince remained silent for a long moment. Niles felt his anxiety growing, certain that he'd say _yes_ and be done with it. Because if anyone was irreparably damaged, it was Niles. An irreparable monster.

“That's not a simple question with a simple answer,” The prince finally spoke. “In my experience, people are always changing. Maybe they will never fully free themselves of whatever ‘damaged' them. A person's past doesn't just leave them. But that doesn't stop them from building a future.

“I assume you were wondering about yourself. A criminal bold enough to break into Castle Krakenburg, I can only imagine your history.” The prince did not hide his glances at Niles’ missing eye and his scars (the visible ones, anyway).

“But I suppose the simple answer is no, you are not irreparably damaged. It's never too late to create a future.”

Niles was stunned by the prince’s response. He hardly knew how to process it. _It's never too late to create a future. It's never too late._ Niles didn't know if he believed that just yet, but Leo’s response was more than he'd ever expected.

The prince stretched out his hand and Niles felt the vines fall away from his arm. That simple gesture quieted all of Niles’ thoughts, all of his objections. All of his fears. Leo didn’t say anything, simply held out his hand and looked at Niles expectantly.

This, _this_ was a gift from the gods. An opportunity dropped in his lap, his for the taking. A kiss of death turned into the breath of life. _Hope, hope, hope._

A long moment passed. Then Niles slowly reached up with his free hand and gripped Leo’s. The prince squeezed his hand back and smiled. He pulled away, then unlocked Niles’ cuffed hand and stood. “Welcome to the circle of royal retainers,” Leo said. “Take some time for your wounds to heal, then I’ll see how skilled you truly are.”

The prince turned and began to take his leave, but he stopped halfway across the room and turned back to Niles. “Ah, as I said before, I am not fond of pleasantries. However, it seems in skipping them, I did not remember to ask your name.”

Niles looked at the prince for a moment. He stood up off the bed and walked until he was just a few paces away from the prince. The (former?) outlaw lowered himself to one knee, ignoring the pain from last night’s wounds. “My name is Niles,” he said. “And today I pledge my undying loyalty to you, Prince Leo. My skills and my arrows are yours.”

“Rise,” Leo said and once again held out his hand. Niles allowed to prince to help him to his feet, and he couldn’t help but wonder when the last time he allowed anyone to help him was. “I’m eager to have you by my side, Niles.”

 

“Which leads us to now,” Niles says.

“Which leads us to now,” Leo can’t help but echo. A lot had happened in the last six years. “You know, most people wouldn’t consider being nearly executed a pleasant memory.”

Niles chuckles. “Fair point, But I am decidedly not ‘most people.’” A long pause follows this, with neither man quite knowing what to say. “I owe you a debt that can never be fully repaid, milord. But that’s not to say I won’t try…” Niles speaks quietly, mostly to himself, but it seems Leo heard him anyway.

“Niles, you needn’t be so dramatic.”

“I must contradict you, milord,” Niles says. “You saved my life and gave it a purpose. If anything, I am downplaying the debt I owe you.”

Leo smiles, his expression softer than Niles is used to. “Well, thank you. I do consider myself lucky to have such a loyal and trustworthy retainer.”

Niles can’t help but look away. He’s not used to praise, even though Lord Leo commends him and Odin, his other retainer, quite frequently. Praise was not something he got growing up. Criminals had no need for it. A good job was expected, not something to be rewarded with anything other than money or food or blood. And, Niles feels, a former criminal like himself shouldn’t be receiving praise, shouldn’t be commended. He should be expected to do his job well. To repay the man who gave him his life back, who gave him a second chance. To try and right some of the wrongs he’s done. “Please, I'm not worthy of such praise,” Niles says, shaking his head. “I retain almost nothing from my youth, just those broken memories. But… I can recall every moment since the day you rescued me in vivid detail. These new memories are what give me strength to continue living.”

Lord Leo looks stunned. “Niles, I…”

“Make no mistake, milord. I will protect you until the very end. I would gladly sacrifice my own life for yours, should it ever become necessary.”

“I don't know what to say...” Leo says softly.  “So… I suppose ‘thank you’ will have to suffice. I will try to be worthy of your continued dedication and support.”

Niles smiles. He tips his head back, turning his gaze up to the sky. He reflects on all the nights he spent looking at it, wishing and hoping and dreaming of looking at it as a new man. As someone who could just… _be_. He never dreamed that he’d serve the youngest prince of Nohr, who is kinder than Niles deserves. Who respects him and accepts his loyalty, despite his past. Who treats him as an equal, and not a tool or a servant. Who sees him as a _person._ Who never saw him as a monster _._ He never dreamed that his crimes would be pardoned, his slate wiped clean in the eyes of the crown.

Niles knows he can never change his past. He locked away all his guilt and sadness and pain for a reason. He still enjoys murder and torture, which is still useful in his new line of work. Despite that, he can feel some of what he locked away trying to break out. The want to hold onto his last shreds of humanity, the want to redeem himself one day, to make up all the things he was forced to do, that he chose to do to save his own skin. _The hopes of a child,_ he had always thought back with disgust.

Now? _The hopes of a man reborn._

Niles closes his eye, letting his feelings wash over him for a moment, just a moment. Hope and happiness, two things he thought were dead so long ago. Things he thought died with the criminal in the street who tried to cut off his hand. Things he thought had died when he decided becoming a monster was better than death. _Hope and happiness._

“Thank you… Leo.”


End file.
